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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23097730">kiss me (then once more)</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/extasiswings/pseuds/extasiswings'>extasiswings</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Timeless (TV 2016)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>(in one chapter) - Freeform, Angst, Domestic Bliss, F/M, First Kiss, Fluff, Mild Smut, kiss prompts, prompt fill collection</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-03-10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-03-10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-01 13:02:07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>5,047</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23097730</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/extasiswings/pseuds/extasiswings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>A series of prompt fills centered around different types of kisses.  Lucy/Flynn-centric.  Rating varies by chapter.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Garcia Flynn/Lucy Preston</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>44</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>51</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Gentle to Passionate Kiss</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Rating: T. Prompt: 70. Starting With A Kiss Meant To Be Gentle, Ending Up In Passion</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Why are you here?”</p><p>It’s been months since Lucy first asked the question. Months since Chinatown, since losing Rufus, since the moment she stared at Garcia Flynn on his knees in front of her, only to have her throat close the next instant out of fear for a response she wasn’t ready to hear. </p><p>(Both in the moment and for days, weeks, after, she wasn’t sure whether she wanted to kill Wyatt for the interruption or thank him.)</p><p>Now, though, her voice is clear, her mind settled, and it’s Flynn with fear flickering across his face as he looks up at her from his chair. </p><p>(Months and he’d given her blanket permission to invade his space; no reason that should change just because they’ve moved from the bunker to a new location even if she no longer has an excuse to sleep in his bed–)</p><p>Flynn wets his lips, a tic she’s come to realize is a sign of nerves rather than a shameless attempt to draw attention to his mouth (although it certainly succeeds at that). </p><p>“What?”</p><p>He knows what she means. Lucy knows he knows what she means. Asking is…she’s not sure if he’s trying to dodge the conversation or give her a chance to change her mind or some combination, but whatever the reason, it isn’t going to work. </p><p>“In Chinatown,” she replies, “I asked you why you’re here and you were going to say something. You started to and then–well. So I’m asking again. Because I want to know what you were going to say.”</p><p>Flynn drops his gaze for half a second, and for all that he’s a big man–tall, imposing, terrifying to some–he seems to almost shrink under her scrutiny. </p><p>“I don’t remember,” he says.</p><p>Lucy bites back a sigh, knowing it isn’t fair of her to be frustrated. Not when she’s the one who has kept him at arm’s length. Not when she’s leaned on him in every way since the start of their friendship, only to balk at any hint they could be something more. Not when she’s the one who hasn’t been ready. </p><p>(When she asked him about the journal after they saved Denise, his face, his voice, his story, had all been overwhelming. She hadn’t been able to handle the implications, or the way he looked at her as he told his story–like she was his light, his world, his savior. And he’d backed down. Given her space. Told her they’d have to wait and see. Recalling the way the light in his eyes dimmed in that moment makes her feel a flicker of shame.)</p><p>She’s ready now. Perhaps it was naive, maybe even selfish of her to assume he always would be. </p><p>“Yes you do.” Lucy crosses the room slowly, approaching Flynn the way she might a spooked horse. When she stops in front of his chair, he doesn’t look at her, and the uncertainty radiating from him makes her chest tighten. </p><p>“Garcia,” she says quietly. That gets a reaction. At the very least, it gets him to look at her, which is as much as she hoped for. </p><p>The look in his eyes makes her breath catch. </p><p>“You know the answer,” Flynn replies. It’s soft, almost resigned. As though he’s tired enough of holding back that he’s hoping she’ll just get it over with if she’s going to break his heart. </p><p>(It’s entirely possible that she will. She’s terrible at relationships and they aren’t in ideal circumstances to start one. But at the very least, she knows she wants him. She knows she wants to try. That has to be enough.)</p><p>“Say it anyway?” It’s a question, not a command, because Lucy’s not oblivious to power she holds over him. And if he really doesn’t want to answer, the last thing she wants is for him to feel obligated. But god, she wants–</p><p>A shudder ripples through him when she touches his face–when was the last time she touched him? That anyone really touched him?–but he tips into it rather than pulling away.</p><p>“For you,” he says–half a breath, half a prayer, two syllables imbued with all the devotion in the world. “I’m here for you.” </p><p>(What is she supposed to do but kiss him?)</p><p>Lucy dips her head and captures his mouth lightly at first–closed lips brushing over closed lips as a mere suggestion, a hint of possibility. She doesn’t mean for it to be anything else, and she’s about to pull away when Flynn finally responds, trembling hands settling on her hips as his mouth opens under hers. She doesn’t mean for it to be anything else, to be anything but soft and gentle and chaste, but she can’t help herself. Not when there’s so much more they need to say to one another. Not when it’s easier to slide her fingers into his hair, to slip into his lap, to speak love and stay into his mouth with her tongue, to press the words into his skin with her hands, her teeth, rather than say them aloud. And Flynn gives it all back in return, kissing her like she’s the air he needs to breathe–or as if he’s afraid she’ll vanish if he stops–desperate and dizzying and disbelieving. </p><p>Eventually, Lucy pulls back, half-convinced that with their luck the alarms will sound the moment anyone’s clothes start coming off–and just as sure that no one’s should, given what happened the last time she fell into bed with a teammate too quickly–but she can’t help dropping a series of softer kisses to his lips. </p><p>(Of course, it’s also late and she’s missed him and the last thing she wants to do is leave. But as it turns out, she doesn’t have to bring it up.)</p><p>“Will you stay?” Flynn asks, his thumbs tracing small circles on her hips that threaten to make her shiver. </p><p>Lucy hums and kisses him again. </p><p>“Yes.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Accidentally Witnessed Kiss</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Rating: T.  For the prompts: 52. Accidentally witnessed kiss. 73. Height Difference Kisses.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>After Chinatown, Jiya doesn’t sleep well. If she’s honest, it didn’t start there. She’s struggled to get regular hours–to go to bed at decent times, to sleep through the night–since her visions started. But it was easier when they first moved into the bunker, when she could calm her mind down with wine or sex or both and hopefully drift off in the arms of the man she loved.</p>
<p>After Chinatown, though…it’s worse. Three years of living on her own in the past, of clawing for survival, meant three years of sleeping as lightly as possible. Of snapping to attention at every creak of a floorboard, or whisper of the air, because that could be someone trying to kill you or steal from you or a thousand other things. And that’s on top of the visions that have only gotten worse.</p>
<p>So, no. Jiya doesn’t sleep well.</p>
<p>They move to another safehouse two days after Future Lucy and Wyatt leave. This one is an old farmhouse with an attached barn to hide the Lifeboat. Pro: it’s above ground. Con: it creaks a million times a day–quietly, but when Jiya’s trying to sleep the creaks might as well be gunshots.</p>
<p>When she can’t sleep, she usually goes to work on the Lifeboat.</p>
<p>She’s halfway down the stairs, just about to skip the step that makes the most noise, when she hears it.</p>
<p>“I can’t lose you.”</p>
<p>Jiya freezes. Lucy.</p>
<p>“Lucy…”</p>
<p>Flynn. Flynn?</p>
<p>Slowly, carefully, Jiya turns her head. Sure enough, Lucy and Flynn are in the doorway of the kitchen, just visible enough from her spot on the stairs. As she watches, Lucy steps into Flynn’s space, resting her hands on his chest. He freezes like a deer in headlights, throat working as he swallows hard.</p>
<p>“You’re not expendable,” Lucy says. “Not to me. Garcia–”</p>
<p>Even from a distance, Jiya can tell the use of Flynn’s first name rocks him. </p>
<p>“Garcia…please.” </p>
<p>Lucy shifts up on her toes, her hands moving from his chest to twine behind his neck and pull him down. Of course, if he really didn’t want to be moved, Lucy couldn’t have moved him with all her strength, but she does. Flynn bends, pausing with his mouth inches from Lucy’s, looking for all the world like he wants to ask more questions. </p>
<p>He doesn’t. </p>
<p>Lucy closes the distance, and Jiya’s chest twists at how achingly gentle the kiss looks. </p>
<p>(She misses Rufus. She <em>misses</em> him. They’ll get him back, they will, they have to, but in the meantime she feels like part of her has been ripped away–a limb, maybe, or a piece of her soul–and she’s broken and bleeding and doesn’t know what to do. She misses being held, being kissed, being touched. Being looked at like she was something precious. She misses being loved. She misses feeling love instead of pain, grief, anger</p>
<p>God, she misses Rufus.)</p>
<p>“Lucy…”</p>
<p>Jiya finally wrenches her eyes away, turning to quietly make her way back up the stairs to her room. She’s not cruel enough to risk interrupting. There’s no reason why they should all be unhappy. </p>
<p>Back in bed, she still doesn’t sleep. She doesn’t cry either, just stares up at the ceiling and thinks of nothing and everything. Minutes, maybe hours later, the floor of the landing creaks as two sets of footsteps pass her room. </p>
<p>One bedroom door opens and shuts. Jiya waits, wondering if she’ll hear a second. She doesn’t.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Scrunched-Face Kiss</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Rating: G. Prompt: 72. When One Person’s Face Is Scrunched Up, And The Other One Kisses Their Lips/Nose/Forehead (and a return to domestic af Garcy because I said so)</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“I’m not going.”</p>
<p>Flynn looks over from where he’s finishing his tie in the mirror and raises an eyebrow. </p>
<p>“It’s going to be stuffy and obnoxious anyway,” Lucy continues. “The food will probably be terrible, it’ll be too long, everyone will want to talk to me–”</p>
<p>“Yes, people do tend to want to talk to the guest of honor at an award ceremony,” her husband replies, sounding far too amused for his own good. </p>
<p>Lucy glares at him and he presses his lips together so he won’t laugh. </p>
<p>“You were thrilled about this four months ago,” Flynn says, stepping over to join her on the edge of the bed.</p>
<p>Lucy scrunches up her face. </p>
<p>“Four months ago I didn’t have to pee every five minutes and I wasn’t hot all the time and all my clothes fit me properly. Now I’m growing a bowling ball and I’m uncomfortable and I look terrible–”</p>
<p>Flynn kisses her and Lucy squeaks in surprise before melting into him. </p>
<p>“You look beautiful,” he replies when he pulls away. “But if you really don’t want to go, I can call the committee and tell them you’ve been suddenly taken ill…”</p>
<p>Lucy sighs at the flicker of guilt she can’t hold back and shakes her head.</p>
<p>“Hand me my red clutch?”</p>
<p>“Of course.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Touching Kiss</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Rating: T. Prompt: 61. Hands On The Other Person’s Back, Fingertips Pressing Under Their Top, Drawing Gentle Circles Against That Small Strip Of Bare Skin That Make Them Break The Kiss With A Gasp</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>They don’t have time. They really don’t. Lucy has the journal tucked into a bag, the Lifeboat is powered up, Rufus is waiting–but god, god she hadn’t been able to stop herself from kissing Flynn, her Flynn one more time before she goes. </p>
<p>(Just in case. They’ve done the calculations, they know what should work, but traveling on your own timeline is always dangerous. Not to mention, what if it doesn’t work? What if this other Flynn, a younger, more broken Flynn, doesn’t believe her after all? What if she screws it all up and comes back to find everything is different? She wouldn’t be able to bear it.)</p>
<p>Lucy kisses him like it might be the last time–fierce and desperate with a hint of filth. And there’s no time, there isn’t, but she wants to touch, wants to brand the feeling of his skin into her fingertips, so she slips her hands beneath his shirt. The touch makes him shiver, but it’s the slow drag of her nails across his lower back–digging in and pulling him closer–that makes him gasp and wrench his mouth from hers. </p>
<p>“Lucy–”</p>
<p>There’s no time. No time, even though they have a time machine because they never know when Rittenhouse might pull something off that will ruin everything. </p>
<p>(But if they did have the time, god, the things she would do.)</p>
<p>“I love you,” she says, and Flynn ducks his head to kiss her forehead, then her lips once more. Light, sweet, soft–he’s confident even if she’s afraid. But then, he’s always had a tendency to believe in her more than she believed in herself. </p>
<p>“It’ll be fine,” he replies. “I’ll see you in a few hours.”</p>
<p>“Lucy!” Rufus calls from the Lifeboat. </p>
<p>“Garcia–” Flynn kisses her one last time, then steps out of reach.</p>
<p>“Go. I love you.”</p>
<p>(An hour later, Lucy walks into a bar. Garcia Flynn is on his third drink.)</p>
<p>
  <em>(“Garcia Flynn?”</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>“How do you know my name?”</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>“I know everything about you.”</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>And so it begins.)</em>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Distracting Kiss</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Rating: T. Prompt: Kisses Meant To Distract The Other Person From Whatever They Were Intently Doing</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Flynn is on the floor of the soon-to-be nursery, cursing quietly to himself as he stares at the instructions for the half-assembled crib in front of him. He could swear the box of parts is missing something. Could swear it. That’s the only explanation for why he can’t find–</p>
<p>He doesn’t hear Lucy come in, but he jumps when she slips her arms around his waist from behind. </p>
<p>“Still working?” She asks, feathering her lips across his cheek. “It’s been hours.”</p>
<p>“I’m almost done,” Flynn replies, turning back to the instructions. <em>There really must be something–</em></p>
<p>Lucy drops a kiss to his shoulder, then a small series of them up the side of his neck. </p>
<p>“We still have six weeks. You don’t have to finish it today…”</p>
<p>Flynn tips his head to give her better access to his neck, but doesn’t look away from his task. </p>
<p>“I know, but I’d rather be pre–” He cuts off with a gasp when Lucy nips hard at his pulse point. Her lips curve into a smile against his skin as she slips her hands under his shirt.</p>
<p>“I have something else I need your help with,” she murmurs. If her tone hadn’t said enough, the slow scratch of her nails above his waistband is more than clear. </p>
<p>Flynn puts down the instructions.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Despairing Kiss</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Rating: T.  Prompt: "We Can Never Be Together" Kiss</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Garcia Flynn is a realist. That’s what it comes down to. And as a realist, he looks at himself and then at Lucy Preston and thinks, No. Never going to happen. </p>
<p>There have always been sparks between them, even at their first meeting when he was solidly on his way to drunk and drowning in grief. Even though he didn’t want to admit it or think too hard about what it implied that Lucy, beautiful, impressive, Lucy might be to him. Or him to her. </p>
<p>He buried those thoughts, told himself the journal was a tool and nothing more, tried not to care about the very real woman in the pages. </p>
<p>He failed. </p>
<p>Perhaps it was inevitable. </p>
<p>(The irony, of course, being that Lucy–present Lucy–hated him. Hated him, and was right to because he can barely recognize himself after some of the things he’s done, there’s no reason she shouldn’t. But god, she always been glorious. Her fire, her righteousness–even when she was on the wrong side, helping Rittenhouse instead of joining him to stop them, he had to admire it. If she was afraid of him, it certainly didn’t stop her from getting in his face and calling him out. She wasn’t unlike Lorena that way.)</p>
<p>She doesn’t hate him anymore. Somehow that’s almost a more terrifying prospect than when she had. Because before, being in love with Lucy was just a fact. He could acknowledge it and move on because he was never going to act on it, never going to tell her, and she was never going to feel the same. The were never going to be together. Not as anything more than friends and partners. </p>
<p>Now…now she looks at him and he’s not so sure. And he’s far enough gone that he would do anything, give her anything, even as she keeps looking back at the other man around who cares for her. </p>
<p>(<em>Supposedly</em>, is what Flynn thinks in his pettier moments.)</p>
<p>
  <em>What kind of husband or father could I be after what I’ve done?</em>
</p>
<p>Not one that Lorena would deserve. Not one that Lucy would deserve either. </p>
<p>When she kisses him, it’s a surprise. A shock to the system. </p>
<p>It’s been a month since Future Lucy and Wyatt left when Lucy walks into his room in their new safehouse and just…kisses him. </p>
<p>And he lets her. </p>
<p>Her mouth tastes like vodka, but her stride had been steady, her eyes clear before she pulled him down to her. He could, maybe should still push her away–he will, he tells himself when she sucks on his tongue and makes him shiver, soon. </p>
<p>Flynn is a realist, but he’s also just a man. And he can’t think, can’t breathe, is dizzy enough from her kisses that it’s hard to find the strength to push her away.</p>
<p>(He still doesn’t believe they’ll ever be together, doesn’t know why she came to him to begin with, but he’s just weak enough to want to make it count if this is the only time he’ll ever have this.)</p>
<p>Lucy’s hands are everywhere, but he manages to still them before curving one of his behind her neck and kissing her slow, deep–the way he’s always wanted to kiss her, the way he would kiss her every day if she allowed him.</p>
<p>(But she shouldn’t. She shouldn’t. They can’t–he can’t–)</p>
<p>Flynn pulls away after a moment and Lucy–Lucy looks stunned. </p>
<p>“I–” She clears her throat and he waits. For a rebuke, an explanation, anything. </p>
<p>“I’m sorry,” she says finally, her fingers raising to her lips before she catches herself and forces them down. “I’m sorry.” </p>
<p>And then, as quick as she came, Lucy’s gone.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Domestic Kisses</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Rating: G.  Prompt(s):  23. Exhausted Parents Kiss/71. A Gentle “I Love You” Whispered After A Soft Kiss, Followed Immediately By A Stronger Kiss.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Mama. <em>Mama</em>.” </p>
<p>There are little hands tugging at Lucy insistently as she slowly wakes up. Forcing her eyes open, she squints at the clock (3:41AM) and then at Ethan. </p>
<p>“What’s wrong, honey?” She asks, her voice rough with sleep. Sleep that she’d only gotten about three hours of because Ethan’s still-growing sibling had decided to practice for a future career as a soccer player using her insides as the ball as soon as she got into bed. </p>
<p>Ethan bites his lip. “I wet the bed.” </p>
<p><em>The joys of parenting</em>. Biting back a sigh, Lucy manages to sit up.</p>
<p>“Okay. I’ll be right there. Can you do me a favor and get out your clean sheets and pjs?”</p>
<p>It’s not until Ethan nods and scampers off that Lucy registers the emptiness on the other side of the bed. </p>
<p>Garcia…?</p>
<p>Concerned, but not enough to be deterred from the task at hand, Lucy gets up and follows her son. </p>
<p>Later, after getting Ethan resettled, she finds Flynn asleep on the couch downstairs. </p>
<p>“Garcia.” Carding her fingers through his hair, she adds, “Sweetheart, wake up.” </p>
<p>Flynn starts awake, shaking his head to clear the fog of sleep. It’s then that she notices the redness of his eyes, the lingering tracks on his cheeks. </p>
<p>“Lucy…”</p>
<p>She doesn’t ask about whatever nightmare led him downstairs. She knows by now when she should and when it’s better to leave it alone, and all she really wants is to be held by her husband.</p>
<p>“Move over?” She asks instead, and settles onto the couch next to him when he makes space, resting her head on his shoulder as his arms close around her. </p>
<p>“Everything okay?”</p>
<p>Lucy hums and curls closer, wincing when another hard kick lands next to Flynn’s hand where it rests on her stomach. </p>
<p>“Hey,” Flynn scolds, ducking his head and directing a series of quiet sentences in Croatian at Sibling no. 1 (and only, as far as Lucy’s concerned). Whatever he says seems to at least head off another round of kickball, so she’s grateful for that. </p>
<p>“Everything’s fine,” she acknowledges when he sits up again. “Just…very ready to not be pregnant anymore. And there’s laundry to do.”</p>
<p>“I thought I finished the–oh.” Flynn presses a kiss to the side of her head. “Sorry. He knows better than to wake you up right now. I should have–”</p>
<p>Lucy waves him off and captures his mouth instead. Exhaustion is in her very bones, but it lightens the longer she kisses him, lazy and searching and slow. </p>
<p>(They don’t get many moments just to themselves anymore, and soon enough they’ll have even fewer. But they make them when they can and for all her grumbling at times, she wouldn’t trade it, not any of it, not for anything.)</p>
<p>Her pulse is thrumming when she finally pulls back, her blood sparking in her veins.</p>
<p>“Come back to bed?” She breathes, curling her fingers into his shirt. </p>
<p>Flynn wets his lips as though chasing the taste of her and smiles. </p>
<p>“To sleep?”</p>
<p>Lucy laughs quietly and ghosts her lips over the underside of his jaw. </p>
<p>“Eventually.”</p>
<p>“I think I can manage that,” Flynn replies, tipping her chin up in the next moment to kiss her softly. </p>
<p>“I love you,” he murmurs into the kiss. </p>
<p>Lucy nips playfully at his lower lip and kisses him harder, pulling him to his feet. </p>
<p>“Show me?”</p>
<p>(No. She wouldn’t trade it for anything.)</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Forehead Kiss</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Rating: G.  Prompt: Kiss on the Forehead.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Lucy. Wake up, love.”</p>
<p>Flynn’s hand on her shoulder, shaking gently, but her eyelids are too heavy–forcing them open is about the least appealing thing in the world. She doesn’t know what time it is, doesn’t know when she fell asleep to start with since she only planned on sitting down for a second after putting Ethan down mid-afternoon, but the last thing she wants is to get up. </p>
<p>“Lucy…” </p>
<p>Lucy manages a small noise of irritation–just let her sleep–and a fond chuckle slips through her sleepy haze even as the hand leaves her. The next moment, a sigh escapes her as she’s covered by a blanket. </p>
<p>“Sleep well, sweetheart.”</p>
<p>The last thing she remembers before drifting off once more is gentle fingers brushing her hair out of her face and her husband’s lips pressing the softest of kisses to her forehead.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. Back Kiss</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Rating: G.  Prompt:  Kiss on the Back.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Lucy can’t cook. She knows she can’t. She’s tried at several points throughout her life and has never been able to master very much beyond making pasta. It isn’t the worst thing in the world–before, she had Amy, who was solidly decent in the kitchen, and now she has Flynn who is really quite good–so it doesn’t matter that much in the grand scheme of things. </p>
<p>Except. </p>
<p>Except that she’s pregnant and sometimes gets it into her head at weird hours of the day (or night) that she wants to eat random things. And maybe she feels guilty about waking her husband up every single time. And maybe, just maybe, she thought just this once that since it was after 2AM when she woke up and omelets shouldn’t be that complicated, she could make one herself. </p>
<p>She sets off the smoke alarm at 2:36. </p>
<p>(It may be no use crying over spilled milk, but if she sheds a few tears of frustration over burnt eggs, at least there’s no one around to see but Flynn.)</p>
<p>For his part, Flynn doesn’t do more than raise an eyebrow at the smoking pan before cleaning it out and starting over. After a minute, when the kitchen starts smelling less like smoke and more like eggs and cheese and herbs, Lucy wraps her arms around his waist from behind and sets her lips to his spine. </p>
<p>“I love you,” she murmurs. </p>
<p>She hears his smile, rather than sees it. </p>
<p>“I know.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. Top of the Head Kiss</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Rating: G.  Prompt: Top of the Head Kisses</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“How are my boys today?” Lucy asks as she sets her briefcase down, a smile coming to her lips when she looks over to the couch. </p>
<p>Ethan is passed out asleep on Flynn’s chest, and Flynn looks less than five minutes away from joining him.</p>
<p>“Fussy,” Flynn replies quietly. “Someone refused to take a nap at his usual time and then threw a tantrum in the park.”</p>
<p>Lucy walks over, dropping a kiss to her husband’s head from behind the couch as she reaches down to lightly smooth their son’s hair. </p>
<p>“Looks like you survived at least.”</p>
<p>“It was a near thing,” Flynn says. “Very touch-and-go for awhile.”</p>
<p>Lucy presses her lips together to keep from laughing, then tips his head back so she can kiss him properly.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0011"><h2>11. Sated Kiss*</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Rating: M. (Here be Smut).  Prompt(s):  58. Moving Around While Kissing, Stumbling Over Things, Pushing Each Other Back Against The Wall/Onto The Bed; 42. Sated Kiss</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Lucy Preston has given a lot of thought–(possibly too much thought, given that up until a few months ago, they were adversaries, but adversaries or not she has eyes)–to how Garcia Flynn would kiss. After Germany, after D.C, certainly after Chicago, she imagined it would be harsh, biting, brutal–the way you might expect to be kissed prior to being fucked hard against a wall with most of your clothes still on. After Salem, though…well. A lot of things changed after Salem. Her occasional flights of fancy expanded to wonder what he would be like soft, delicate, unsure. The way he looked at her sometimes, she couldn’t help thinking he’d kiss like it was a privilege–reverential, worshipful. </p>
<p>Of course, in all of this imagining, Lucy never considered how <em>she</em> would kiss him. How Flynn would kiss was an abstract hypothetical to be worked through, not necessarily a specific fantasy involving the two of them. Better to keep at least some illusion of distance there, even as he joked about her being a gentle and responsive lover, as he told her she walked into a bar and saved his life, as he held her in an alley while she broke down. Better to keep some distance especially because of those things. </p>
<p>Except, then they kiss. </p>
<p>They kiss at Pearl Harbor, ducking out the path of a group of Rittenhouse agents looking for them. There are too many to fight on their own and there are enough sailors around getting lucky that it seems like the easiest way to blend in.</p>
<p>(Flynn crowds her against an alley wall, covering her in a way that’s imminently practical for protection should the agents see through the charade, but that sends shivers through her for reasons that have nothing to do with the danger they’re in.)</p>
<p>When it comes to actually kissing her, Flynn is reluctant, stiff. Lucy’s the one who fists her hands in his shirt and tugs him harder against her, the one who licks into his mouth and makes them both forget that it’s not real. </p>
<p>Not real. </p>
<p>(But for all that it isn’t real, it leaves Lucy flushed and panting, admitting to herself that she’s wanted him for ages, that she wants to kiss him again when it’s not to save their skins, that she wants so much more than that–)</p>
<p>“Lucy,” Flynn rasps out once they’re clear, his gaze searching. </p>
<p>“Later,” she replies. “We’ll talk later.”</p>
<hr/>
<p><em>Later</em> doesn’t happen. <em>Later</em> gets put off for days, weeks, as they have mission after mission because Emma likes to hit hard and fast and frequently. And all the while, Lucy is frustrated. Because before, everything was abstract. After Pearl Harbor, she knows what it’s like to kiss Garcia Flynn. To touch him. To wreck him in the best possible way. And it’s madness to have that knowledge and not be able to do anything about it. </p>
<p>Finally, Lucy takes matters into her own hands and just shows up at his room right after their next mission, still in clothes from 1963. Flynn barely gets a word out before she’s kissing him. </p>
<p>Her imagination got it right about one thing–he does try to be gentle. He tries for soft, for sweet, tries to take his time. Lucy’s the desperate one. The one who claws at his tie and wrenches his jacket off his shoulders and is so careless about kicking off her shoes that she trips over them when she takes her next step forward. </p>
<p>Flynn laughs when he steadies her, hiking her up in the next moment so she can wrap her legs around his waist. “Easy there.”</p>
<p>Just for that, Lucy nips hard at his neck when he’s in the middle of a step, and he stumbles into the wall. </p>
<p>“Easy there,” she echoes, and Flynn gives her a deeply unimpressed look before abandoning soft and kissing her hard. </p>
<p>They don’t make it to the bed. Flynn drops to his knees right there, holding Lucy up against the wall while he teases kisses across her inner thighs before setting his mouth to her center. Delving into her first with his tongue and then his fingers, he drives her higher and higher, until she has to clap a hand over her mouth to muffle her sounds. </p>
<p>“Garcia, please.” Her whole existence is molten and electric and she’s <em>right there so close please</em>– </p>
<p>In response, Flynn circles her clit with his tongue while curling two fingers inside of her, and Lucy shatters. </p>
<p>(She’s not sure she’s ever been so grateful for his strength because she doesn’t think she could stand if she tried.)</p>
<p>When he kisses her again, Lucy allows him gentle, takes her own time exploring the taste of herself on his tongue. She’s liquid and shivering and sensitive, but she reaches for his belt anyway, still wanting, still needing more.</p>
<p>Flynn stops her. </p>
<p>“Are you sure?” He asks. Lucy catches his mouth for another kiss, then another, each slower and more lingering than the last.</p>
<p>“Yes,” she finally replies. </p>
<p>(He carries her to the bed–she doesn’t argue, even though in her opinion the wall is more than fine–and it’s–</p>
<p>Lucy isn’t sure she really understood the term lovemaking before Garcia Flynn. After though? She knows.)</p>
<p>She kisses him yet again after, when they’re both exhausted and she’s stretched out half on top of him, their legs tangled up together as he traces patterns across her skin. It has none of the edge of their earlier kisses, is entirely lazy, their mouths musing almost as an afterthought. </p>
<p><em>I love you</em>, Lucy thinks, because saying anything at all would break the comfortable stillness surrounding them, and saying those words in particular remains a terrifying enough prospect that she can leave it for another day. </p>
<p>It’s enough that she knows. </p>
<p>She knows.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>During the summer of 2018 I filled a bunch of prompts on tumblr off a prompt list based on different kinds of kisses.  I'm finally cross-posting them here to ao3 so they don't get lost.  Some are angsty, some are domestic and sweet, some are kidfic, and rating varies by chapter (although only one prompt fill includes any sort of smut).</p></blockquote></div></div>
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